


we are unaligned (and we will never reach that same point of clarity ever again)

by vampiricvibe



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Confrontations, M/M, Role Reversal, Verbal Sparring, dynamic switch, mac meets his breaking point. basically, not necessarily a happy one folks., part of me wants canon macdennis, part of me wants mac to fight back and leave dennis in a state of shock over how he truly feels, s15, saw a lotta ppl say . why doesnt mac treat dennis the way dennis treats him, so here u are, so its macdennis but ............................ not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampiricvibe/pseuds/vampiricvibe
Summary: after all these countless years of taking dennis' comments of hatred in jest, and with a heavy heart, mac decides to return the favor.
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	we are unaligned (and we will never reach that same point of clarity ever again)

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this all in one night because i kept seeing suggestions of a sort of, dynamic switch/role reversal. and i knew i had to write it.

The hatred comes down like a whip crack of lightning near a boat about to capsize, like a cat o’nine’tails that the Priests used to use - at least the Priests _he_ knew - rupturing a sinful boys back, like your father walking out as you admit your innermost secret hoping that he’ll still love you, but you know he never did, and never will. 

Nothing in particular provoked it. At least, seemingly, nothing did. 

Maybe, years of vitriol, poison seeping from the snakes maw that had coiled around him all these decades. Choking him blue and blurring his vision so intensely - but he forgives it. Keeps forgiving it. Keeps allowing it. He convinces himself he enjoys the sparring, the pain, the fear. Dennis blinks, and Mac suddenly rears up. Nostrils flare. There’s something primal there that Dennis hasn’t witnessed in years, at the most - he remembers witnessing this during a few of their bleachers outbursts, Mac would beat his fists against a pole until his knuckles grew a deep shade of purple. He’d always sob afterward, and Dennis would say nothing. He did bring bandages though. He could always read when he was about to break. It’s just he hasn’t seen it in years… especially after coming out, there was never a flicker of it. He was much more happy, much more easy-going, relaxed, submissive, sure, he was prone to some violent tendencies, _but weren’t they all?_ This, this felt different. Deep-seeded, yet suddenly uncovered. As if he’d hit a nerve.

“ _What’s that supposed to mean,_ dude?”

Dennis finds himself at a loss, “...Uh, what, what do you mean?”

Mac’s eyes narrow, “You’re the first person I’ve told, man. Why can’t you be happy for me? ---You look so fed-up. This is a big thing for me, a _huge_ thing, what happened to the whole 'you're my wing-man' idea? Why, why don’t you care?”

There’s an immediate response, the wrong response, one Dennis knew, immediately after saying, he shouldn’t have said aloud at all, “The wing-man thing was something I said I’d do like a year ago, not now.” Surprisingly Mac doesn’t stop him there, but he can feel the rage compiling, he hesitates, “But, I---I am happy, I am happy for you.”

“No, no you’re not.” Mac’s fists ball up. Dennis’ eyes stay on them. “What the fuck. All these fucking years. I at least thought you’d, _fuck,_ ”

“What are you talking about? God - make some sense for once Mac!”

Mac’s eyes glint at Dennis and it’s the first time he’s felt challenged by Mac’s presence in years, there’s a thrill that rushes through him - he misses their friendly, stupid competition - but then he’s immediately frozen in place. This isn’t friendly and it isn’t stupid. This is bleachers level of anger. A pit that hasn’t been doused in gasoline for well over three decades, and he’s acting as the match, as the gasoline it seems, has been there from the start.

“I am making sense. You just don’t care.”

“I just said I do!” 

“No you didn’t. You said you were happy. You aren’t happy for me. You weren’t even listening, you nodded, for fucks sake. Did you even hear me?”

“...Something about a guy on Grindr? _You met somebody?_ ”

Mac shakes his head, his fists still haven’t uncurled, Dennis hasn’t seen him this equally disappointed and enraged for a while. In fact, he doesn’t reckon he’s ever seen it. One hand slams onto the side of the bar and it looks like his eyes are beginning to water, “Yes. _Yeah,_ I met someone. I met someone.”

“Okay.” Dennis doesn’t get it. It’s funny, tragically funny, because usually Mac is the one out of the loop. He doesn’t add anything because what can he say? It’s an okay situation. Dennis doesn’t feel happy for him, he just feels moderately annoyed, there’s a sickly taste in his mouth and he’s not keen to discuss it, albeit, he can’t place his finger on why. 

“Okay.” Mac lets out a laugh. “That’s all I get, huh.”

Dennis let’s his cool facade slip, momentarily, “What else do you want? I said I was happy, I do care, how else can I respond? Do you want me to rate him? Tell you how good you’ve done? _Do you want a fucking treat or something?_ ”

A second slam. This time it’s so hard that one of the support beams under the bar cracks and feels as if it gives way. 

“No, man, I just want you to pay more attention, to actually _listen!_ Remember what you said to me? About fucking, only following orders because you repeat it, and not out of my own free-will or whatever, not acting like myself, only acting how you tell me to? Well, that’s literally what _you’re_ doing, _right now._ ”

“Well, sorry for not actually giving a fuck about your boyfriend, if you want my real opinion. I mean, we all knew you were gay anyway, before you even came out so, _why’s this such a big deal?_ If anything, you should’ve gotten with someone sooner--”

The moment Dennis allows his eyes off of Mac’s fists, is the moment his fists meet his jawline with a hardy crunch, his second fist meets his nose and Dennis is lucky he hasn’t left it broken. Blood pours from both nostrils and he’s landed in the fetus position on the floor, coughing red onto the splinter-ridden wood. Breathes are hoarse, and he can hardly see. The stinging overtakes for a second.

“I hate you.”

It’s a tone that Dennis quite literally hasn’t heard before. He can’t entirely take it in the first time, he’s too busy remaining winded on his knees to really hear - white noise distorts it - but he still understands what he said. But just, for the sake of clarity.

“I _hate_ you.”

The second time is somehow worse than the first.  
The first was a submerged, distant pin-prick, something Dennis could bury into his subconscious, but the moment it’s repeated, is the moment the prick turns into a stab, through his chest, and right out of his back. And it’s a sentence he’s said so often, to Mac, it’s almost become its own language in itself. Mac is so desensitized, and yet, Dennis crumbles at the usage. _He can’t mean it._ Mac loves Dennis. That’s how it’s always been. Dennis wipes blood from his lip and hisses - he can’t mean it, because Dennis values it. Dennis likes it. Likes Mac’s love, his gifts and early morning, awful fucking cooking, stupid comments and day-by-day domestic attitude at home, movie nights, everything about it. He doesn’t say anything, but through the blur of stinging eyes he stares up, and pleads using no words at all.

“You know why I couldn’t get with anyone sooner. _You_ of all fucking people, know.”

Dennis feels his heart drop. His black, evil little heart. 

“That’s why I wanted to tell you first, out of everyone. To see if you even gave a shit, to see if it affected you. But it’s clear you don’t and it doesn’t, so it’s fine.” He looks down at his fist, smeared with specs of blood. Fine was one way to put it.

Dennis hasn’t even got up off of his feet yet. He’s still grovelling. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. “Mac, I never hated you.” Dennis feels his mouth numbing. It’s ridiculous how strong he’d gotten. “I… I never hated you.”

“Well, you have a funny way of showing it.”

“ _Mac…_ ”

A second thunder crack, “ _No!_ Don’t fucking do this, man. If this is what it takes to make you realize, that you care even the tiniest goddamn bit, it’s not worth it. _None of this was worth it._ All of these years, of me and you, meant nothing, obviously. It didn’t have to add up to a relationship, dude, I could’ve stayed in that apartment forever if you showed one fucking ounce of sympathy. But you can’t let yourself until it’s too late, can you?”

“Mac, please, don’t overreact, _I---_ ”

Mac lunges down and Dennis understands that this is most definitely karma coming down to bite him in the ass. He was hardly careful with Mac, he hardly showed any love to the guy, _even though he felt plenty of it_ \- it was an internal problem he was unwilling to deal with - honestly, and he had left it too late. He’ll admit. He’ll admit too late.

“Overreact----you fucking _asshole._ ” Mac has his hands on Dennis’ stupid placid-shirt collar, and heightens him a little bit, like he’s a toy doll, “I’m not overreacting, this is the normal reaction you should be getting. I’m sick of it, Dennis. I’m sick of _you._ ”

“No, no - you’re right, Mac, you’re right,” Dennis takes a breath, he is, this _is_ the reaction he should be getting, when tending to a fire such as his while acting as the match, he should expect nothing less. “---And I’m sorry. I am - I’m _never_ sick of you, man. Never. I never want you to leave the apartment. No matter how many times I've said it. I’m - I’m so sorry, I really am, I--”

“Do you expect me to just drop him, like that because you’ve apologized?”

_Yes._ Dennis thinks. “No.” He says.

They withhold eye contact for a second, Mac stares and he sees all the lead-ons and mistakes in the past leading to his shackles around Dennis. He loves him, but it’s like treading through barbed wire and mine shafts. Every step towards the goal hurts, every step forward is another step away from safety. So every step forward, is just another step back. Dennis looks, and he sees all of the missed opportunities, all of his lies, all of the harm he’s inflicted that he never really meant. He loves him, but embracing it is like putting a hammer to his own mirror, fracturing his carefully built ego, his legacy, his identity he cares for so much - he cannot change so drastically without a push like this. It’s just Mac can’t withstand it.

“What are you guys doing? - Hey! _Hey!_ ” 

Charlie runs in, dropping the boxes of unknown substances onto the floor in a flurry of camo-green movements, he tugs at Mac’s shoulders and pulls him away from Dennis. It doesn’t take much, mainly because Mac allows him.

“What the fuck happened? Dennis, dude, are you good?”

Before Dennis can answer, Dee walks in, and asks exactly the same question, before Frank offhandedly mentions how it was probably some blood kink and some rough foreplay they weren’t meant to witness. “Frank, trust me, that’s never gonna happen now.” All three of them blink toward Mac. Dennis just stares at the floor.

“I’m fuckin’ done.” Mac shakes Charlie’s hands off of his shoulders. “Unlike you with North Dakota I won’t be coming back. I’m going to pack now. Fuck you.”

He steps over Dennis like he’s shit on the sidewalk, and slams the door so hard that the others flinch at the impact.

“ _What in the Hell_ did you have to do to make him act like _that?_ ” Frank asks first.

“Yeah, Jesus Christ.” Charlie adds.

Dee just gazes, absently, down at her brother. She doesn’t want to ask - mainly because she knows it’s not the time. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears, and she’s one of two people who knows what that looks like. Charlie never takes note. Frank is hardly their dad so he couldn’t tell happy from sad.

“He’ll be back.” His voice is uncertain. It doesn’t have the same effortless confidence he’s held in his throat all his life. It’s as if something inside him is forever changed, and he can’t help but wonder if Mac feels the same - but in the entirely opposite way. He swallows back the iron taste lining his saliva and gathers himself up. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“That didn’t look like fine to me.” Charlie murmurs.

“Well it is! We are!” He yells, raspy in tone, with some crimson spit lining Charlie’s horse-shirt. The rage doesn’t compare to Mac’s. It’s dampened, almost.

“We?” Frank starts. Dee glares over as if she attempts to stop him speaking with her eyes alone. “I don’t think you guys are a _we._ At least, not after that.”

Dennis’ flimsy rage gives way, and his teeth, all bared and snarling twitch and form a defeated scowl, his eyes flicker to Frank and it’s like all defenses cave, his brows furrow and there’s a raw vulnerability obvious in his expression - so obvious all the others can see it. He almost, almost falls to his knees at the implication. Oh the _irony._

“Shut the fuck up and somebody - make me a drink.” He stares out of the front door and sees a faint silhouette - a tequila and lime shot enters his peripheral vision and he wolfs it down despite it being a crisp nine am, and shudders promptly at its sharpness. He huffs under his breath, “This was not how it was meant to happen.”

But after twenty plus years of constant inertia, how _was_ it supposed to happen? 

It wasn’t.  
Mac was supposed to stay in Dennis’ palms and remain with him despite no reciprocation of love, he was supposed to stay with Dennis despite him telling him to leave, despite his vicious mood swings and unpredictable behavior, he was meant to endure, and stay under Dennis’ thumb. It was subconscious powerplay, now that he thinks about it. He clinks the glass back onto the bar. “ _He’s coming back._ ” He speaks aloud, to nobody but himself.

They all look on, and half-heartedly listen on. Despite what little perspective they had on the matter, they were sure Mac was at least not going to come back for a, considerable while. And when he does return, he won’t act nearly as similar as he did before. On his knees. Praying to God. Succumbing to Dennis’ every whim. And not from Dennis’ own demands this time, no. He snapped himself, he made this decision himself. No more of that. No more worshipping Dennis Reynolds. Instead, leave him to take a chug of his own medicine, and see how he recovers.

It always had to be a case of knowing too late, or knowing too early. There was never a point at which they could meet. Dennis loved too early, too subtly, through too many veils of ‘monthly dinners’ this, and ‘pretend to be a gay couple’ that. Things that could be brushed off, kept between them. Mac loved too late, too brashly, through too many grand gestures that scared Dennis off. Things that pushed him away and made him face how he truly felt, far too quickly.

They could’ve mended each other if they could recognize and come to peace with how they felt within themselves, but, _it was always wrong place, wrong time, with their love, wasn’t it? ___


End file.
